


The Perfect Gift at Just the Right Time

by quiet__tiger



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Identity Porn, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 14:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10699317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: Bruce had been confusing long before he and Clark hooked up. Now he was impossible.





	The Perfect Gift at Just the Right Time

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Livejournal Jan. 25th, 2008.

Clark watched languidly as Bruce pulled up his tights, pulled on his top, clipped his belt, and affixed his cape and cowl. Batman stood before him again, tugging his gauntlets into place. Clark watched the man nod then leave the room.

Clark sighed. Sex with Bruce was great, but sex with Batman... left a lot to be desired. The sex itself was amazing, wonderful, earth-shattering, every cliché out there. But the way fun, sexy, passionate Bruce just changed back into Batman afterwards really disturbed him. He was never rude or thoroughly unpleasant, he was just distant. Clark didn’t expect cuddling and long, romantic pillow talk discussions, but Bruce not running back into his costume the second they were both finished would be nice.

Maybe he rushed off because they could only find time for sex at the Watchtower, and Bruce didn’t want anyone to know about them. Batman and Superman in a relationship. Scandalous! Clark wasn’t even sure it _was_ a relationship. Right now it was just random groping in the hallway when they walked by one another, or a quick session in one of their rooms. Bruce never invited him to Gotham, and Clark wasn’t sure if it was because Bruce had some sort of issue, or if he really wanted to uphold Batman’s ‘no metas in my city’ thing. Clark had invited the man to Metropolis, but he rarely visited for a reason other than business.

Actual business, not risky business.

Maybe that was the problem with hooking up on Halloween, the holiday known for being the sexiest, full of trysts and liaisons and one night stands inspired by being in costume, being someone else. Perceptions become distorted on that night at the best of times, and toss in some major villain ass-kicking and a celebration party and it was a wonder there wasn’t an orgy right there in the cafeteria of the Watchtower. As it was, feelings long suppressed were acted upon, affections finally granted, and Superman and Batman had succumbed to temptation.

Three times.

Bruce had left soon after the final time, and Clark had thought Bruce was just embarrassed, maybe confused, and would come by later to talk about it. He did indeed come by later that day.

For another round.

Clark finally roused himself from the sweaty sheets to take a shower. If the rest of their relationship had been affected, perhaps he’d think about ending the benefits part. But everything else was the same. They worked well together, joked together, and treated each other the same way as they had before, they just had sex now.

So why did it feel different? Why wasn’t it enough anymore?

~*~

On December 9th, the Justice League celebrated Oliver Queen’s birthday. Clark thought that maybe it would be a good time to talk to Bruce as Bruce, while still in the relative comfort of Batman’s costume. He was, indeed, in a good mood.

Until Clark tried to talk.

“Clark, do we have to talk about this?” The deep voice was partway between Bruce and Batman.

“I just thought that since we’ve been fooling around for a month and change, maybe we should talk about it.”

“What, exactly, do you want?”

If only he knew. “I don’t know. But I want more than just random sex whenever it’s convenient for you. I want to go out with you, maybe spend time socially and not have sex.”

“Is it not _good_ for you, Clark?” That was said with the sexy, deep timbre that went straight to Clark’s groin. Not quite Batman, not really Bruce, the voice was something else, something dark and arousing and dangerous. Like its owner planned to do unspeakable but no doubt wonderful things to him.

Clark bit back a whimper as his cock swelled. “It’s great, Bruce. But... I want more. I want Bruce, I want him in my life.” Would speaking in the second person be more appropriate? What did it say about the two of them that there wasn’t really an answer to that?

Bruce looked at him, discernable from Batman because he didn’t have the lenses in his cowl down and he wasn’t scowling. He kind of squinted before he spoke. “I am in your life. But right now I can’t give you any more than I already do.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated. I have appearances to maintain as Bruce Wayne, I have a city to protect from common criminals and insane villains.”

“We all do. Yet somehow I manage to report the news, fight criminals and villains, and even rescue the occasional pet from a tree.”

“We all know you’re a veritable Boy Scout.” The words were said dryly, and there were no others.

Clark waited for him to continue, and when he didn’t, he said, “Everyone else can manage to balance all the different aspects of their lives. Why can’t you be both Batman and Bruce without it being some big _thing_? Why can’t you be with someone in a semi-normal way? Why did you even seduce me on Halloween? Why do we still have sex?”

Clark was angry now, frustrated with the way the conversation had gone. His ire only increased as Bruce watched him steam, his face blank. Finally he spoke, and Clark hated that he couldn’t deny the truth of his words. “We have sex because we need to.” He meant on the biological level, absolutely, but also on the personal level, where he was talking about Batman and Superman, polar opposites attracted to each other by physics and nature and whatever the hell else that made it difficult to stay apart. “I’ll come find you in ten minutes.”

Clark swallowed and nodded, and walked as quickly back to his quarters as was polite and not extremely obvious to everyone else in the room. He really, really hated what Bruce did to him, the way he made him question what he wanted, what he was doing. And then Bruce would touch him or bite him or grope him or say something, and Clark wouldn’t be able to resist, and everything Bruce did after that he really, really liked.

It was not easy sleeping with Batman.

Bruce.

Whomever.

~*~

Clark watched as Lois rearranged ornaments on the office Christmas tree. Somehow she felt entitled to do so, regardless of the professional decorators who put it up. He’d never figure her out, even if they worked together for the next twenty years.

She stepped back and crossed her arms, admiring her work. “See that, Smallville? Now _that’s_ a tree.”

It had looked like a tree before, but he didn’t want to get into some argument about decorating, so he didn’t say anything. Even if he had, he would have been interrupted by the voice saying, “Ms. Lane. Mr. Kent.”

Clark turned around to find Bruce watching them, smiling warmly in greeting. Clark answered politely, but he was confused. “Mr. Wayne.”

Lois stuck out her hand, and Bruce shook it. “Hello, Mr. Wayne. Come to check up on your paper?”

“Just wanted to look over some figures with Perry.” Lois turned to lead him to Perry’s office. Bruce took the opportunity to shoot a look at Clark that almost made his knees buckle. How did he _do_ that? “Perhaps I’ll see you afterwards, Clark? I wanted to discuss your recent piece on LexCorp.”

Clark nodded dumbly. When Bruce did visit Metropolis, which was almost never, he never made it a point to talk to Clark. He didn’t want to draw undue attention. Maybe he’d thought about what Clark had said the previous week at the Watchtower, after they’d had sex during Ollie’s party. Clark had tried to be pretty firm about where he stood and what he wanted.

Easier said than done when he was flushed and covered in his own semen, but he’d made his point. He wanted more than just sex. It was lonely, not having an emotional connection with his partner. He couldn’t tell if Bruce had really understood, but his blank stare seemed more... expressive than normal.

That didn’t make any sense at all. Nothing did when it came to Bruce Wayne. Only rarely was the predicament endearing.

He went to his desk and pretended to be busy. He broke three pencils and a stapler before he realized how nervous he was. Maybe anxious was a better word.

And definitely horny.

Superhearing or no, he jumped when he heard Bruce’s “Hello, Clark” coming from behind him. He turned, and Bruce stood there looking down on him with a small smirk of amusement. “Let’s discuss the article in the conference room.”

Clark followed him, but not before he caught a Look from Lois. He wasn’t sure if it meant, ‘Good for you, Smallville!’ or ‘You’re so dead, Smallville.’

Inside the conference room he closed the door behind them, and Bruce led him to the corner not visible from the window in the door. He kissed him deeply before he smiled and asked, “Clark, tell me how it’s possible to surprise a guy with superhearing.”

“I was thinking.”

“Oh yeah?” Bruce unbuttoned Clark’s shirt. “About what?”

“You.” Bruce unzipped Clark’s pants. “About what you might be doing here, in the middle of the day, coming to where I work. What you could possibly want.”

“This.” Bruce wrapped his hand around Clark’s cock and jacked it slowly.

“Anything else? A lunch date, maybe?”

Bruce frowned as he stroked, the pleasant touch so arousing that Clark almost forgot his determination to make sure Bruce had listened to him. “I have to get back to Gotham. I really did have to talk to Perry.”

“And what, you thought I’d just give you a quickie? I’m not a hooker, Bruce.”

“I’m not paying you.”

Clark grunted and pushed Bruce away, hard enough that Bruce almost hit the far wall. “What is wrong with you?”

“Keep your voice down.”

“Or what, people might know I’m your dirty little secret? I’m good enough to sleep with but not good enough to date?”

Bruce actually looked wounded. “That’s not what this is. Clark, I’m a busy man, I can’t just jump into a relationship with someone. I’m here, aren’t I? You said you wanted more time together, and here I am.”

“Whatever, Bruce.” Clark buttoned up his shirt and zipped up his pants. “Just leave me alone. Go back to Gotham, go back to your Cave, go back to being a playboy. I’m going to stay here, do my job, and maybe I’ll meet someone who wants to give me the time of day.”

“What about the League?”

“What about it? Batman and Superman have always worked well together, and still will. World’s Finest and all that. It’s _Bruce_ that _Clark_ is having a problem with.”

With that, Clark opened the door and returned to his desk. He didn’t watch to see where Bruce went. If he was lucky it was finally to Hell.

~*~

“Is it really fair to trim a tree in the Watchtower, Superman? Even among a regular workforce there are a number of religions represented at any given time. Add in people from other galaxies...”

“I think people like the tradition, Batman. And anyone is allowed to put up whatever they want, whenever, to celebrate a religious holiday from their home world so long as nothing is dangerous or obstructive. Better everyone celebrates a little than no one celebrates at all.” Clark heard Bruce mutter that it was only because no one wanted to side with him when they voted on it.

Christmas was finally around the corner, carols playing everywhere, good cheer spilling from people’s lips almost as quickly as cash spilled from wallets. Everyone except for Batman had voted to have a holiday party for everyone, and the Watchtower was full of content merrymakers.

Except for Bruce, of course.

It was difficult for Clark to be near Bruce after what had happened at the Planet, but he’d been a convincing actor all his life, and he didn’t think anyone noticed how strained things were between Superman and Batman. If they did, well, they should know Batman got a little weird around the holidays. It was yet another issue the man had.

Clark smiled as Wally sped from person to person to hand out Christmas cards, the Santa hat on his head held on by nothing more than force of will. There was food, music, decorations, and presents. Even the League members who probably didn’t understand the holiday could enjoy the party.

“Superman, may I have a word with you?”

Clark sighed as he turned back in Batman’s direction. “I’m not talking business.”

“Neither am I.”

“Fine.”

They went to Bruce’s quarters, where Bruce closed the door and gestured that Clark should sit down. He sat to humor the man, though he really didn’t want to. “What is it, Bruce?”

“We have to fix this.”

“What?”

“Our relationship. Superman and Batman’s.” Figures he didn’t care about Bruce and Clark. “I realize it’s been strained lately between us, and that can’t happen. We need to be at the top of our game with each other.”

“I know that.”

“ _And_ the best way to repair how Superman and Batman interact is to change things between Clark and Bruce.”

Clark warily raised his eyebrow. “How do you propose we do that?”

“I got you something.” Bruce reached into a drawer and pulled out a square box, which he handed over to Clark.

He took it and opened it. “It’s a watch.” Expensive, by the looks of it. Clark Kent wouldn’t be able to buy one for himself if he saved for six years.

“Merry Christmas.”

The smile under the cowl infuriated Clark. “What is this?”

“It’s almost Christmas, and I wanted to say I’m sorry for barging into your office last week. I don’t always think of how some of my rash actions affect those people I care about.”

“Is that it?”

“And if you’re still interested in me, I was wondering if you wanted to try it again.” He sounded a little apologetic, but not really enough to suit Clark. Not enough to make Clark think he meant it.

“Give me a fucking break, Bruce.” Bruce had the decency to almost look like he’d been slapped. “I don’t want your money or your trinkets or whatever else you’re planning on springing on me tonight. What I want is _you_. _Bruce_. The actual Bruce Wayne, son of Martha and Thomas, owner of Wayne Industries, the man who lives in that castle you call a home, the man Alfred raised. The man who cares about others, the man I became friends with because I could see the good person inside even when he hid behind masks.”

Clark pushed past Bruce to get to the door, handing him the box as he did so. “If you were willing to give me any of that, you’d have at least taken off the cowl when you gave me the watch.” He opened the door and stormed out, and returned to the party.

Bruce did not.

~*~

December 23rd brought charity gift-wrapping to the League. Superman and Wonder Woman chose to work in Metropolis. The money they got from the wrapping and tips was going to the Children’s Hospital, and they had been busy working all afternoon.

Clark was glad he couldn’t get paper cuts.

It was fun, though, knowing that their work was for a good cause. Clark couldn’t help but smile as he folded and taped the pretty paper, Santa hat cocked on his head. Diana had almost convinced him to decorate his boots with jingle bells, but then they decided that the jingling would drive them crazy after a while.

It was almost time to wrap everything up and go home, so to speak, when Clark looked up from putting away a roll of paper to come face to face with Bruce. Bruce handed him two boxes and a check for ten thousand dollars. Clark smiled politely. “What paper would you like?”

“The reindeer.”

“They’re cute, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

Clark finished wrapping the presents and handed them back. “Well, thank you. Have a nice holiday.”

“Superman...” Bruce looked like he wasn’t sure what to say. That didn’t happen often. “Come by the Manor tonight. After patrol.”

He couldn’t say no to him, not with the hopeful expression on his face. And he didn’t really want to, anyway. Bruce was still his friend, even if he couldn’t be his lover. “Okay.”

Bruce smiled at him, then nodded to Diana. He walked away, and quietly, almost enough so even Clark couldn’t hear him, began to hum the “Carol of the Bells.”

Even Bruce Wayne could get in the holiday spirit, apparently. Batman must be the scrooge.

Not surprisingly.

~*~

Clark felt kind of silly knocking on the front door of Wayne Manor in his Superman costume, but he hadn’t though to change. And it might keep this whole thing a little more professional. Besides, it wasn’t more than a second or two before Alfred answered the door. “Hello, Master Clark.”

“Hi, Alfred. Merry Christmas.”

“And to you. Master Bruce is sharing this beautiful night with the bats downstairs.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

He and Alfred shared a small smile, then he followed him to the hidden staircase for the Batcave. They passed two Christmas trees, one in the foyer, one in a den. Holly and evergreen boughs decked the halls and mantels, and Clark could smell warm cider from the kitchen. “You decorate beautifully.”

“Master Bruce helped. He does enjoy this holiday once in a while.”

Clark didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything else. Alfred engaged the secret door to the Cave stairs, and left Clark alone to walk down them. Dammit, it was dark.

The stairs opened up to the large, open area that housed all of Batman’s souvenirs, vehicles, and equipment. The gigantic computer console was to the right, the light from the monitors the only illumination in the room. Bats fluttered and squeaked above him. The place was a little eerie, and not remotely festive.

He walked over to where Bruce- no, Batman- sat at a keyboard, intently looking at the screen as he typed. When Clark closed to within ten feet, the typing stopped. “Clark, I didn’t expect you so soon.”

“Sorry to barge in on your invitation.”

“Clark...” Bruce stood, and Clark watched as he pushed the cowl back. Clark wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen Bruce’s entire head while they were in the Cave before; he’d only even been there a few times, and those were strictly emergencies. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean? Do you want me to go back to the head of the stairs and knock?”

“No.” Bruce now looked annoyed, and Clark felt bad. But not that bad. “I had wanted to change. So you didn’t see me like this.”

“It’s not like the costume thing is a surprise.” Clark tugged on his own cape.

“But I wanted to talk with you as Bruce. Not... anyone else.”

 _That_ was a surprise. He knew Bruce felt comfortable as Batman, which had lead to the Halloween sex in the first place, and had come here expecting to have whatever discussion the man wanted to have with Bruce protected by his beloved cape and cowl. “Okay...” He fought the urge to cross his arms over his chest.

Bruce managed to look awkward in his own home, in his sanctuary. “I apologize for my behavior. It was unfair to expect you to do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. I neglected your thoughts and feelings.”

Clark was speechless. Batman had never said he was sorry for anything, and he didn’t think Bruce ever had, either. “Bruce...”

“I want to try again, Clark.”

“Bruce, you already said that. But I can’t just say yes and then fall into the same old pattern. The sex was great, but I want more. You have to give me more than good sex.”

“It’s not easy, Clark.”

“No one expects a relationship to be easy.”

“But it is for some people. Never me. You’ve been my colleague for long enough to see what I do to people. I couldn’t keep a girlfriend, and didn’t really want to, and then I thought maybe it would be easier with a man. Men don’t have to talk, men don’t need the attention and nonsense that women do. The playboy attracts shallow women, the Batman violence and dark eroticism.” Bruce cautiously stepped closer. “And then you... You fell for me, and Batman, somehow, all of it together, and I couldn’t believe it. The Man of Steel, my friend and colleague. We worked so well together, rolling with the punches, both physical and verbal. It never occurred to me that you’d really want more, and then when we did have more, it didn’t occur to me that you’d want the rest of me. No one else ever did. My body has always been a hot commodity. But no one wanted my mind, my issues. I’m not used to anyone wanting more, wanting all of it, and it’s a daunting prospect for me.”

Bruce stepped a little closer, the expression on his face pleading and expectant. Clark wasn’t sure what to say, so he didn’t say anything. Eyes downcast, Bruce filled the awkward silence. “That’s it, Clark. I don’t have anything else to give.” His grave blue eyes came back up to meet Clark’s. “I enjoy being with you, whether it’s sleeping together or working or talking. It’s been a very difficult couple of weeks without you, without even your friendship.” He paused, as if trying to collect his thoughts. Or buy time. “I want you back. In return, I’ll give you me. ...All of me. Come over for dinner tomorrow night.” It seemed that it took a lot of effort to get the words out.

It was a reflection of how serious they were.

Clark was still speechless, but he forced himself to say something so Bruce didn’t retract what he said. “Wow.” Okay, so that sounded stupid. But it wasn’t every day Bruce bared all when it came to his mind and heart. He tried again. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s what I figured.” Bruce turned and started to walk back to his computer chair.

“No...” Clark reached out, grabbed Bruce’s cape, and yanked him back and turned him around. “I _meant_ that it’s not every day that you hear what you really want to hear.” Clark looked into Bruce’s eyes, trying to see if Bruce was telling the truth, if Bruce wasn’t just telling him what he wanted to hear so he could get back into Superman’s tights.

What the hell good was seeing through _walls_ or _skin_? It would be much more useful to see through people _figuratively_.

Bruce looked so _earnest_ , blue eyes anxious as he waited for Clark’s response. “Bruce... I do want to be with you. _Bruce_. And not just in the Watchtower, or in your office, or my office, or whatever, and not always naked. I don’t want to be used. I don’t expect much, Bruce. I don’t need a lot of maintenance. I just want to spend time with you without it being about work or sex. There’s got to be a part of you that’s just a regular guy. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen it, though, without there being an ulterior motive.”

“You will.”

Clark didn’t bother to make him promise. Bruce usually meant what he said, or believed he meant what he said, and when he was surreptitiously being misleading there was usually an obvious signal that he needed to be decoded. “Come here.” He wrapped his fingers around the utility belt and pulled him in close. The kiss was simple, a press of lips, then again, but then Bruce moaned into it and opened his mouth.

Clark pulled Bruce even closer to him as Bruce’s hands went into his hair. Bruce pulled off the Santa hat- Clark hadn’t even remembered he had it on and was suddenly mortified- and tossed it somewhere. He slipped off his gauntlets, and the feeling of Bruce’s bare hands in his hair, in this Bat-filled space, was sexy, tantalizing. He tugged on Clark’s hair, pulled his head back and to the side, and then his mouth was on Clark’s neck. Clark rubbed his erection against Bruce’s, his body screaming for what his mind and heart chose to deny it. One of Bruce’s hands slid around to grab onto Clark’s cape, yanking it to pull Clark closer, though he didn’t know how much closer to Bruce he could get.

One of Clark’s hands dropped to cup Bruce’s groin, not that his protective guard allowed for much contact. After a long kiss as Clark tried to rub, Bruce pulled back. “No.”

“No, what?”

“We’re not having sex.”

“You don’t want to have sex?” Maybe this whole time Bruce had been a pod person.

“Clark, there’s nothing I want more than to bend you over the console and fuck you. _But_ what I think would be better right now would be if we went upstairs, changed into regular clothes, and enjoyed some of the cider Alfred made.”

“That sounds...” Really kind of romantic. Sweet. Nice. “Nice.”

Bruce’s lips quirked into what might have almost been a smile. “It will have to do. I haven’t entertained someone I’ve actually liked in some time.”

There was something so endearing about that admission. Maybe there was hope for Bruce yet. “Thanks, Bruce.”

“For what?”

“For this. At least trying to make this thing we have between us into more than just sex. Even if it doesn’t work, we’ll have made the effort. You’re giving me hope, which is something I haven’t had towards anything in a while.”

“It’s better to give than to receive.”

“Except maybe for blow jobs.”

“Depends on who you’re sucking.” Bruce, still holding onto Clark’s cape, pulled him towards the stairs.

Clark couldn’t help but follow, smiling as he thought about what he now had. He wasn’t going to hold his breath for Bruce actually giving him all of him, but so long as he tried, it was better than nothing. Better than quickies during monitor duty breaks, anyway, better than feeling used and unappreciated. He didn’t need presents and constant attention or anything like that. Just Bruce was good enough for him, the gift of himself, all his parts together. And it just happened to be right in time for Christmas.

But he wondered if Bruce still had the expensive watch and still wanted to give it to him.

This time he’d take it.


End file.
